Try even if you fail but never fail to try.

Appreciate the Right Intention.

Mr Cottrell’s heart was in the right place but his head was in the clouds. On reflection I would not call him mister he was only about eighteen and full of the fervent fever of one who has just found God. I was only a kid and could not imagine a god being lost. As from what I knew about gods, they were like Supermen some were nudists living on mount Olympus, Zeus was the boss and tossed thunderbolts all over the sky when he was upset. I was told these gods were myths. I was not sure what myths were but thought they were something like the Tooth Fairy, not to be taken too seriously unless you had a loose tooth. Then if you knew what was good for you, you were a strong believer in the Tooth fairy.

A little community hall like this.

The little community hall was reserved on Sunday by the local multi denominational Christian Church group. That is where Mr. C. held Sunday school for the kids. I always attended the last few meetings before Christmas and was invited to their Christmas picnic. I liked the bible stories almost as much as Jack in the Bean Stork, Snow White and the seven dwarfs and Little Red Riding hood. I knew an ordinary hat would blow off riding a horse, what I perplexed me was she did not have a horse. I was always asking why and trying to find out things. Not like Bobby Bacon, the boy everyone, except me and Mr. C., called Piggie, I tried to keep in good with Mr. C. but Bobby would ask all these difficult questions. “How could, Noah fit all the animals in the world on a boat.” “It was a big boat.” Said Mr C. “But tigers would eat the deer.” “He kept them in cages.” “Elephants would break out of cages and eat all the food and where would he keep the food?” Mr. C. was never stuck for an answer he just said “All things are possible with God on your side.

Is this Noahs arc?

I told Bobby to shut-up or he would miss out on the Christmas picnic, like me that was the main reason he came along and I think his Mum give him a bit of a push. My Mum did not need to push me she said “When you do anything it should be for the right reason. Like in the Pinocchio movie, ‘always let your conscience be your guide.’ That movie was a memorable occasion in my life; it was the only movie Mum took me to see. Still my appetite for picnic food had more influence on me than my conscience.

Everyone nose Pinocchio.

I was a cunning kid. If I knew what I now know, as is often said by people seeing the errors of their youth, I would have missed out on a lot of fun. It is no good regretting the past.’ Even if we could turn back we’d probably never end up back where we started.’ I think that line is plagiarised but what has not been said before, in some way. I diverge, getting back to that ignorant kid he was a good normal boy learning about life in a perplexing, contradictory world. In this world the blind do their utmost to help those struggling to understand to see it as they do.

To tell Mr, Cottrell I am more interested in going to the picnic than your bible stories. Those stories are no different to me than myths and legends and I prefer to follow the ethical teachings of the Buddha. Can I still come to the picnic? Who knows what the outcome would have been. I am so pleased we cannot go back and meddle with the past. It was confusing enough without additional interference.

We need no strings needed to dance.

Mr. Cottrell was a sincere, kind young person spreading his joy of finding a guiding light. He gave up his time sharing what he believed in with the likes of Piggie and me. It is the intention not the action that gives the deed its value. Like Mum said,” When you do anything it should be for the right reason.” Why do I write these posts? For the same reason Mr. C. told me stories. We are all well-meaning, but maybe like Piggie, we only want to be happy and party. Bobbie probably grew into a well-meaning hedonist and lots of fun at a social gathering.

G’day Bobbie

This is basically a true story but the memory is not to be relied on with impunity. Also stories do need a bit of artistic licence to be at all interesting. When writing about myself I can handle the truth like a contortionist handles his body or a juggler his balls.

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5 Responses

You remind me me of my son who was asked not to return to vacation bible school, because he insisted on knowing where the fossil evidence of the ark was located to prove the story. Laughing.
I was so proud. Love this post~

If your son had faith he would have needed no evidence.
He must have a scientific mind, I hope he pretended to believe in Santa and the tooth fairy.
You know when I get in trouble I give a little whistle and yell Jiminy Cricket and always let my conscience be my guide._/\_

I chuckled away reading here Jack.. You know without our past and those youthful follies would we be who we are today? We are indeed shaped and moulded to be who we are via our experiences..
Myths I feel have much of their foundation in truth.. And I still believe in fairies And who doesn’t believe in Santa! :-)

My previous comments I put in links and later remembered you had problems with links.
What the links were to was The Ink Spots rendition of Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall. And a very nice video of Bell Birds a poem I am sure you would like, by Henry Kendall. Your comments are brilliant also _/\_